Chapter 12: The Butchers of the Villain World
The frigid winds of Siberia whispered secrets of a world steeped in shadows, where darkness thrived and power ruled. Within the icy heart of this desolate land, hidden from prying eyes, lay the clandestine fortress of the National Crisis Committee (NCC). It was a bastion of malevolence, a haven for those who reveled in chaos and thrived on the misery of others.
In a chamber adorned with the insignia of the NCC, a gathering of shadowy figures convened, their faces obscured by the masks of anonymity. Among them, whispers of power and whispers of dread intertwined, casting a pall over the clandestine assembly.
As the flickering torchlight danced upon the walls, a voice resonated, cutting through the ominous silence like a blade through flesh. It was the voice of the unseen puppeteer, the mastermind behind the veil of secrecy that shrouded the NCC.
"The Butchers of the Villain World," the voice murmured, imbued with a sense of reverence and dread. The phrase echoed through the chamber, carrying the weight of history and the promise of future conquest.
A flashback unfurled, revealing the origins of the NCC, a cabal born from the ashes of chaos and forged in the crucible of strife. Founded in the wake of a world torn asunder by conflict and upheaval, the NCC emerged as a beacon of darkness, a bastion of power in a world plagued by uncertainty.
The founding date, etched in the annals of history, marked a pivotal moment in the NCC's ascent to prominence. It was a day shrouded in secrecy, a day when the first seeds of discord were sown, birthing an organization that would shape the course of nations and defy the will of gods.
Driven by ambition and fueled by the thirst for dominion, the architects of the NCC laid the groundwork for their malevolent empire. Through subterfuge and manipulation, they amassed power, bending the will of nations to their whims and orchestrating chaos on a scale unseen before.
The NCC became synonymous with fear, its name whispered in hushed tones among the denizens of the underworld. It was a force to be reckoned with, a harbinger of destruction and a beacon of despair.
As the flashback faded into the recesses of memory, the figures in the chamber remained cloaked in darkness, their identities veiled in secrecy. The legacy of the NCC endured, casting a long shadow over the world and heralding the rise of the Butchers of the Villain World.
Black Eagle's chilling command hung in the air like a shroud of darkness, enveloping the rooftop in an aura of malevolence. His presence, a sinister specter looming over the city below, sent shivers down the spine of even the most hardened souls.
The soldiers of Division Svyatoslav stood at attention, their expressions masked by stoicism as they awaited their orders from the enigmatic figure before them. Each one bore the insignia of the NCC, a testament to their allegiance to the shadowy organization that held dominion over their destinies.
Black Eagle, his visage obscured by the veil of night, surveyed his subordinates with a gaze as cold as the Siberian tundra. His voice, dripping with malice, cut through the silence like a blade forged in the fires of damnation.
"Three of your men," he intoned, his words laden with the weight of impending doom, "will assault the ward below. Once they have killed more than 50 humans, they retreat. Is that clear?"
His command reverberated through the ranks of Division Svyatoslav, each soldier nodding in grim acknowledgment of their orders. The air crackled with anticipation, the tension palpable as the weight of their mission bore down upon them.
For the soldiers of the NCC, this was but another grim task in service to their shadowy masters. They were the instruments of chaos, the harbingers of destruction, and they would carry out their orders with ruthless efficiency.
As Black Eagle vanished into the night, leaving his subordinates to carry out their dark deeds, a sense of foreboding settled over the rooftop like a shroud. The city below lay unsuspecting, unaware of the impending storm that loomed on the horizon.
In the darkness, the soldiers of Division Svyatoslav prepared to descend upon the ward like silent reapers, their hearts consumed by the darkness that lurked within their souls. For in the world of villains, bloodshed was but a precursor to the chaos that would soon engulf them all.
Black Eagle's chilling voice echoed once more, the cadence of his words lingering in the cold night air. His additional directive added a layer of complexity to the already sinister mission laid out before the soldiers of Division Svyatoslav.
"And one more thing," he intoned, his words weaving an enigmatic thread into the tapestry of their ominous orders. The soldiers leaned in, attentive to the new command that would shape the unfolding events.
"There's a woman called Midoriya Inko," Black Eagle revealed, a fleeting moment of unexpected humanity surfacing in the depths of his otherwise malevolent demeanor. "She is to be left alone if met. In a world like this, a pure soul like hers is very rare."
The soldiers, disciplined and resolute, absorbed this unusual caveat. Midoriya Inko, a name now etched into the mission's parameters, became an exception in the sea of impending darkness. A beacon of purity amidst the impending storm of chaos.
In that fleeting acknowledgment of innocence, Black Eagle revealed a nuanced understanding of the world he sought to plunge into turmoil. As the soldiers prepared to descend upon the city, this singular directive added a layer of complexity, a spark of humanity in a mission drenched in shadows.
With Midoriya Inko's name hanging in the air, the soldiers embarked on their grim assignment, navigating the thin line between ruthless executioners and those with a directive to leave untouched. The night unfolded, fraught with both menace and a semblance of restraint, as they ventured into the heart of the impending storm.